


The Hunter's Prey.

by ZedWishes



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, And Neither Do All The Others, Canon-Typical Violence, Desolation!Jonathan, Disabled Jonathan, Hunt!Martin, M/M, Martin and Jonathan Don't Work For the Institute, Slow Burn, meet-cute gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZedWishes/pseuds/ZedWishes
Summary: The Hunter finds new prey, and the Lightless Flame beckons.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker (Minor)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	1. Not So Stellar Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapter but I think its a good intro. More 2 come :)

He sat at the table, utterly still. Martin had watched him get his coffee and sit down for about ten minutes, looking in from the outside through the cafe's window. The man looked angry. Martin could see his hand shaking intensely, gripping the cardboard cover wrapped around the coffee cup. Through the holes in the cup's lid, smoke could be seen pouring out and into the air. The man didn't seem to notice or care about how hot Martin could tell the cup was. He just held onto it tightly, his gaze locked onto it as if he were causing the abundance of heat that caused the waves of smoke to shoot out. 

Martin wasn't planning on killing an obvious Desolation avatar today, but his keen sense of smell had traced that almost intoxicating scent here. Usually, he went after vampires, but if his instincts led him to an avatar, who was he to deny it? So, Martin walked into the cafe, the door's bell ringing to alert the people inside of his arrival. It smelled like coffee, obviously, but with the faintest whiff of what Martin could sense as gasoline. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man, whose eyes were still intently focused on his cup. Martin ended up ordering water so he could blend in and sat at the table across from the man, and he could examine his features more intently here than from the outside through a foggy window. 

He had dark, almost black brown hair that seemed to be graying at the edges and was tied in a ponytail. He wore thin rim glasses and his face seemed to be stuck in a look of utter contempt. A purple cane also sat in his lap. Even as Martin was full-body examining this man, the man in question never took his eyes off of the smoking cup. Martin, knowing what would happen if he tried to tap the man to get his attention, ended up snapping his finger in the man's face. Still no response. Martin sighed, trying to figure out a way to get his attention without obtaining second-degree burns when he thought of a great solution. He took the lid off of his plastic water cup and was about to pour the water over the man's head when the man's hand shot out and grabbed Martin by the wrist. It took a second for the pain to come, but when it did Martin's nerves felt like they were frying. He heard a sizzling sound coming from his flesh like it was being cooked on a grill. 

"You're very stupid for a Hunter," The man said, a smirk now etched onto his face. "You do know that, right?"

The man's grip loosened, and Martin pulled away violently. Tears began to form in his eyes as he rolled up his sleeve and assessed the damage. His pale skin was now a bright red, and tiny clouds of smoke came from it, disappearing almost as soon as they formed. He could see white patches atop the red, most likely from where the man had gripped his wrist. When he looked back at the man, the look on his face now almost looked like boredom.

"Are you here to kill me or what?" He questioned Martin, pushing the coffee cup to the side. Martin just stared blankly at him.

"Well, I didn't come to break bread." Martin chuckled slightly at his terrible joke, and then remembered that his wrist was positively fucked. "That was unnecessary."

"You being here is unnecessary." The man scoffed. "There's no reason to kill me."

"I don't have to have a reason." 

"Yeah, yeah, the whole 'thrill of the hunt' thing," The man took off the lid of the coffee cup and put his finger inside, swirling the black liquid. "How would you even go about doing that, Martin?"

Martin froze. "How do you know my name?"

"My God tells me a lot of things." 

Martin was just about sick of this small talk. His entire body was aching with the desire to tear this man apart, and the pain in his wrist was starting to fade to a slight prickling sensation. The man, probably sensing this, ripped a piece off of the cardboard around the coffee cup. He looked to be digging around in his pockets for something, and a few seconds later held a pen in his hand. He scribbled something down quickly onto the scrap and slid it across the table to Martin's side. He then placed his cane on the ground, got up, and used it to walk out the door. Martin felt the great urge to go after the man and stalk him to wherever he was going, but it was like an invisible force was preventing him from moving. He looked back at the table and saw the piece of cardboard. It was singed at the edges, and written on it was what looked to be an address. When he got out his phone and plugged it into the maps app, it looked like the address was for a nearby dockside. 

Martin considered his options. He could go, but the man could also be waiting there to trap him. He could ignore it, and nothing would happen, but... that man. He had imprinted himself onto Martin's mind, something a lot of Martin's prey never did. He was curious about him, intrigued. But first and foremost he also couldn't let him get away. Martin never let his prey get away. Never. So he decided to go to the dockside. 

The man didn't write anything about a specific time, so Martin decided to go near midnight. He felt safer hunting in the darkness. When he finally arrived, it was deserted and looked almost abandoned. There was only a building there. When Martin walked in, all he could see were stacked wooden boxes. They were the only thing inside of the building except for an open door at the back. The cold, December air blew through it, making Martin shiver. He assumed that the man had left it open for him. Looking through it from the inside Martin could see a wooden dock, utterly devoid of any parked boats or signs of life, confirming that his map wasn't lying about the dockside part. When he crossed the threshold to the outside and looked around, there was nobody. He couldn't see the man anywhere. 

Martin decided to wait, and if the man didn't show up within ten minutes, he would leave. A minute passed. No sign of him. Five. Nothing. When the ten-minute mark hit, Martin was restless and was about to leave when a voice cut through the silence. 

"Jonathan."

Martin whipped around and saw the man standing at the edge of the dock, facing the water, his cane in hand.

"What?" Martin smiled, showing his teeth. He was finally here, and Martin couldn't wait to rip him apart.

"My name is Jonathan." The man turned his head to look at Martin. "But you can just call me Jon."

"Well, Jonathan," Martin could feel himself reaching into his pocket, where he kept his signature weapon. "I don't think that's going to matter soon."

And then Martin ran at him, revealing the weapon. It was a large kitchen knife sharpened to a glistening point. Dry blood caked the entirety of its length. Martin never cleaned it because he liked to be reminded of all of his victims. He had never tried the knife on an avatar of the Desolation before, but he was itching to find out what it did. When he got close enough to Jon, he tried to drive the knife into his chest, but Jon seemed like he expected the attack. He grabbed Martin's wrist and twisted it. Sharp, burning pain ran through Martin's veins as Jon wrestled the knife from his grip and then threw him to the ground. Wooden splinters dug into Martin's skin upon impact, which usually wouldn't hurt a lot, but the burning seemed to exacerbate the pain. He knew it would die down in a few minutes, but that didn't stop him from moaning in agony. 

When he finally felt strong enough to pull himself into a sitting position, he saw Jonathan throw his knife into the water below. Martin screamed in anger and tried to get himself up fully so he could run at Jon, but Jon slowly walked towards him and drove his cane into his stomach, keeping him grounded. Even Jon's cane radiated with intense heat.

"I just wanted to have a friendly chat, Martin," Jon's face had a mildly annoyed expression on it. "But I suppose we can't even do that without me having to restrain you."

"A 'friendly chat'?" Martin practically snarled his response. "You just burned the shit out of me!"

"You tried to murder me."

Martin felt his face flush in embarrassment. "Ugh, whatever, I won't do it again, just let me go!"

"I'm not stupid, Hunter," Jon said, but still slightly lifted his cane so it wouldn't hurt Martin as much.

"What was this friendly chat even going to be about?" Martin asked. He just wanted to kill Jon and get it over with, but apparently, Jon had other plans for him. Upon hearing the question, Jon smiled. It wasn't full of malicious intent, or even full of cockiness. It was just a genuine smile. 

"I want to work with you," Jon replied. "I think my God could use a Hunter."


	2. Recruitment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin waits impatiently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't gonna post this so soon but well... here we are! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I promise that two certain somebodies introduced in this one will have bigger roles later on :) Enjoooy (Also the tags will be updated so heehoo)

"What are you talking about?" Martin's strength was just about coming back, the burning sensation dulling in pain significantly. The splinters of the dock still dug into his skin, and the heat radiating off of Jon's cane was uncomfortable, but he was itching to lunge at the other man again. Jon seemed to sense this, like he's sensed so many other things, and shook his head.

"You're going to want to hear me out first," Jon replied, lifting the cane fully off of Martin's stomach. "Its important."

Martin quickly got up, raring to lunge at Jon again, but when he tried he felt something holding him back. Like an invisible force. Nothing was there, though. It was like something inside of Martin really did want to hear Jon out. Martin sighed and relaxed his muscles a bit.

"Fine, what does your God want with me?" Martin crossed his arms, an annoyed expression evident on his face. Jon obviously noticed this, as he was looking right at Martin, but a genuine smile was evident on his face. 

"My God is not one to cooperate with others of its ilk," Jon began to explain. "It believes the others' practices are a bit... barbaric, to put it lightly. My God, however, has noticed you. It usually would not be one to associate itself with the Hunt and it's acolytes specifically, but it seems to have taken a special interest in you." 

Martin scoffed. "Why me?"

"It needs your help to clean up the others' messes."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means that you're going to be murdering some avatars."

Martin felt himself smile when he heard this. He had come here to murder Jon, and that was still his goal, but whenever he tried to attack him the invisible force held him back. And he could always come back and kill Jon later.

"I'm in."

Jon gripped his cane tightly. "Perfect."

Jon then held out his palm. Martin stared at the other man blankly.

"Why are you, um... doing that?" Martin questioned.

"Can I have your phone for a second?"

Martin hesitated, but it was almost like the invisible force made him reach into his pocket and pull it out. He walked toward Jon and placed the phone in his hand, causing Jon to smile. Martin felt his face flush and walked back to his former place. He saw Jon fiddling with the screen, and then saw his face fall.

"Whats your passcode?" Jon asked. 

"Uh... 5103." Martin stammered.

Jon nodded. Martin saw him enter the code and then smile yet again. Jon tapped a few things, and then Martin saw him start to type. A few seconds later Jon handed the phone back to him.

"Now you have my number," Martin swore that Jon winked as he said that. "I'll call you with more information when my God thinks it necessary."

And just like that, Jon started to walk toward the open door of the dock's building. Martin tried to follow him, but... he just couldn't. He could blame it on the invisible force, but deep down he knew it wasn't a real "invisible force". It was something inside of him. He didn't know what yet, but he desperately wanted to find out.

When Jon was out of sight, and Martin could no longer see him through the building, Martin started to walk to his flat. He lived on the second floor of a semi-nice building, and shared his flat with a roommate. Her name was Sasha, and she was probably the only person Martin would ever consider a friend. Before the Hunt consumed him he, was a normal person, believe it or not, and met Sasha during his first year of college. He had to drop out to support his mother, but then she died, and Sasha let him stay with her. After he became a Hunter, he was usually out a lot, but Sasha never seemed to mind. That was what was nice about Sasha. She was a genuinely good person. 

When Martin slowly unlocked the door to his flat and opened the door, he didn't expect to be met with light coming from inside. When he stepped through the threshold and the warmth of the flat fully engulfed him he, saw Sasha sitting in one of the armchairs. He closed the door, and the sound of it made Sasha look up. 

"Oh, hey Martin!" She tried her best to sound cheery, but Martin could tell she was uncomfortable.

"Hey, Sash, um-" Martin froze mid-sentence upon hearing the sound of rushing water. "-what was that?"

"I-" Sasha was cut off by a door opening near the end of the hall. Martin squinted to see a tall man walking out. He has short black hair that looked to be covered in multi-colored hair clips. He wore a black and a red flannel shirt and he smiled as he walked out. It was a warm, radiating smile. Martin felt sick to his stomach, and when the man noticed Martin standing at the door he froze.

"Uh, Sasha, you said he wouldn't be back." The man said, quickly walking down the hall and standing near Sasha. Sasha put her head in her hands.

"Martin, this is my boyfriend, Tim." She introduced the man with her face still covered. Martin chuckled nervously.

"Um, hi!" Martin tried to sound cheerful, but he was extremely peeved off. It was really late, and he expected Sasha to be in bed already. His experience with Jon had left him slightly rattled and he was aching for some rest. 

"Hey, man," Tim didn't even try to sound like he wasn't bothered by Martin's presence. "You're... Michael, right?"

"Martin."

"Yeah, that."

Martin sighed. "I'm going to, uh, go to my room."

As Martin tried to walk down the hall to his room, he saw Sasha mouth something that looked like "I'm sorry". Martin shot a thumbs up at her and walked into his bedroom. He almost immediately jumped into bed fully clothed, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and slammed his phone down on the nightstand. He went to bed hoping that Jon would call the next day. 

When Martin woke up, it was one in the afternoon. After checking the clock, Martin grabbed his phone and turned it on, desperate for even one text message. Nothing was there. He put his phone back down and ran his fingers through his hair, almost impulsively. He supposed he should have expected it, but he was still disappointed. Martin didn't know how Jon was receiving messages from the Desolation, but he hoped it sent one soon. In the meantime, however, he supposed he could try to find some new prey. That familiar feeling of the Hunt was coursing through his veins, its intensity almost making Martin's bones ache. It was usually a while before his nose would sense something, but he had to do something to distract himself from Jon's proposal. 

He found nothing, and after a couple of hours of groggily trying to search for things he could hunt, he gave up and went back to his flat. Tim was there again when he got back. He ignored him, and Tim ignored him as well. This was what their relationship consisted of throughout the weeks. Week after week Martin waited for Jon's call and week after week it never came. Tim was at the flat almost everyday, but Martin grew used to his presence. Often he would just lock himself in his room waiting for the call, or he would go out and try to hunt. Nothing would ever come to his attention. He had resorted to setting his phone's ringtone to the loudest noise possible, so if the call came when he was asleep he would be ready. Most of the time, though, it would just make people shoot him glares in public. 

About a month later, Martin was giving up hope. On that particular day he had resorted to staring at his phone from his bed. It lay on the nightstand, utterly still. He didn't expect a call, but he was committed to waiting. Just in case.

When the ringing came, Martin's ears felt like they were going to give out. He shot out of bed, grabbed his phone, and pressed the answer button, eager to get rid of the noise that was threatening to rupture his eardrums. He didn't expect it to be Jon, so he just muttered a standard greeting. When he heard Jon's voice, though, his stomach felt like it was plummeting.

"Hello, Martin." Jon said. "I think we can finally begin."

Martin's heart raced in his chest. "Where-Um... where are you?"

Martin almost slapped himself in the face at his dumb reply, but Jon just laughed. It wasn't a cruel laugh, but an amused one.

"I'm right outside."

A knock could be heard on the other end of the line right at the same time Martin heard a knock at his door. Martin almost screamed at Jon through the receiver when he realized that Jon had hung up right after he knocked. He sighed and quickly got up, eager to get to the door before Sasha. It was still early, so Tim wasn't over, which was a pleasant relief. He exited his room only to see Sasha opening the front door. There, right on the other side, was Jon. Martin watched in horror as he heard Jon ask where he was, and Sasha pointed down the hall. When she saw Martin outside his room, she winked at him and gave him a thumbs up. What did she think was even happening? 

Jon thanked her and started to walk over to Martin, a smile on his face. He always seemed to have a smile on, and it kind of unsettled Martin. When Jon was only a foot away from Martin, he pointed his cane toward Martin's bedroom door.

"Do you think we could talk about this privately?" Jon asked, putting his cane back down. Martin nodded and walked inside of his room. Jon followed and Martin heard the door close behind him. 

"I waited a month, Jon," Martin raised his voice, beginning to pace around the room. "A month!"

"I know, but-"

"No, no buts! Why did it take this long for it to tell you to tell me about what I'm supposed to be doing?" 

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry, Martin, I wish I knew."

Martin stopped pacing and looked apologetically at Jon. He knew it wasn't his fault, and he didn't want to be angry at his employer. He ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs dangling.

"Can you finally tell me?" Martin asked, his voice's volume dropping significantly. Jon nodded.

"Yes, I think I can," Jon said. "Is it alright if I sit next to you?"

Martin hesitated, but that same force he felt during their second meeting seemed to crawl its way into him again. "Yeah."

Jon sat next to Martin on his bed, propping his cane up against the nightstand. They were only a few inches away from each other. Martin could feel the heat radiating from Jon, making him shudder. He did not want to move, though.

"Some avatars do not have the interests of the ones they serve at heart," Jon began to explain. "Although usually the ones they serve grant them the powers and the ability to exert their masters' influences onto this world, like you and me, the ones I want-

Jon cut himself off.

"-need," Jon corrected. "You to hunt are... different." 

"They are tainted. Human-like. Their former personalities stay with them. They still have the powers their masters granted them, but they are unwilling to perform their duties. Usually, the entities would just try to find a new, willing avatar, but there's something... defective, about these ones. Usually, my God would not care about the others' problems, but this is an issue that is impacting it as well. It needs your assistance, and it has employed me to make sure you give it."

Martin took a few minutes to think about what Jon explained. Defective avatars that not even the Gods could get rid of.

"What makes you think I can kill them?" Martin asked. "If not even the Gods could do it, why would I be able to?"

Jon chuckled. "I'm not quite sure, but my Lord believes you can do it."

Martin knew he should have refused. This was an impossible task, and he wouldn't even know where to look for these "defective" avatars. However, something in him refused to... well, refuse Jon's offer. He felt frightened. Frightened and scared of not seeing Jon again. Something about the man has been intriguing Martin, and he still didn't know what that was. If he refused, he could be gone forever. 

He shoved these thoughts out of his brain. trying to convince himself that Jonathan didn't stir something inside of him. He was just scared of losing potential prey, that was it and nothing else. After thinking about all of this extensively for a few minutes, he finally looked Jon in the eyes and nodded. 

"I'll do it." Martin replied, and that same unnerving smile appeared on Jon's face. 

"Excellent."

Jon pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket, which looked like it had some writing on it. Martin didn't know what was up with Jon and writing on pieces of things, but he didn't have time to think it over much before Jon shoved the piece into his hand and grabbed his cane.

"Well, I must be leaving now," Jon explained, walking to the door. "I look forward to working with you."

He opened the bedroom door and walked out. Martin didn't even try to go after him, instead opting to examine the piece of paper. It had "Tomorrow. 6 A.M." scrawled on it hurriedly. He flipped the piece of paper over and saw an address, which seemed to be written with more care. It looked like a home address this time. Martin smiled and placed the piece of paper on his nightstand.


End file.
